


On his altar

by k_beta_cygni



Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mystery, Slow Burn, mostly will just be Noah's Deeply Intense Gaze and Manner of Speaking, perhaps? if im brave enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_beta_cygni/pseuds/k_beta_cygni
Summary: Both you and the priest arrive to Winden in the heat of the summer.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s Helge that gets you to take the job, really. 

Greta Doppler is cold and unfeeling during the interview, though you detect an air of satisfaction when you reference your resume, your previous experience as a governess for other households, your education in childhood development--

“You can start off as a maid.” 

“A maid?” You blurt out, quickly shutting up when her eyebrows raise. “I… I mean, I don’t… understand. Is there something in my application you’re not…content with? I’d be happy to provide references--” 

She cuts you off. “You don’t need to bother doing that. We just don’t need someone of your caliber here. My son Helge is a lost cause. Not even you could change the boy to be anything better. But, seeing as you are here, what I can do is offer you an entry-level job.” She fixes you with a look that says _ it’s the most you deserve _. 

You fight the urge to storm out immediately. At this point, you’re considering dropping the Dopplers and moving on past Winden towards some other town to find employment. But the road has been long and for a while now, you’ve been seeking home. Or, at least, some form of it. 

And, of course, Winden reminded you of home. Like the trees and evergreen forest that you had wandered through as a child, rainy streets and overcast skies. Balmy summers and cold winters. 

You make a decision. “Can I meet with him?” 

She seems surprised. “With the boy? He doesn’t make much of an impression on anyone, I’m afraid.” 

“I insist,” you say. “If I’m to consider your offer, I wish to get to know Helge a little better.” 

Greta fixes you with a look, scrutinizing your expression. You straighten and hold her gaze resolutely; at that, she crosses her arms and nods once. 

“Fine. Follow me.” 

She stands and takes you upstairs, pose frosty and dignified, each step a click of her heels on mahogany flooring. Once the two of you reach the top landing, she turns to you. You keep yourself from taking a step back. The stairs are a long way down.

“Don’t expect much of him,” she murmurs coldly. 

You fake a benign smile. “I’ll see how it goes.” Once she turns away, you wince. 

The second floor is large, expensive dark wood paneling, the lighting adding a low honeyed wash over cool air. The runner is long and plush and entirely unworn. Under each of the four lamps down the hallway, there’s a polished granite table with a crystalline vase and spray of fresh flowers. You get the sense that this isn’t really a home so much as an impression. 

Greta leads you towards a glass-paneled door at the end of the hallway. Through the panes, you look into a bedroom and spot what must be the child, Helge, sitting on a small area rug and playing with some toys. Greta pushes the door open and holds it for you as you step into his room. 

“Helge. There’s a lady here to see you.” 

He turns to look and sits back, tucking his hands into his pockets. The first thought that crosses your mind is that he looks lonely. His room is expansive and the boy occupies only a tiny part of it--even then, folding into himself, as though he’s trying to hide. 

Kneeling down next to him, you soften your voice. “Hello, Helge.” You tell him your name, and add, "It looks like you're having fun." 

It really doesn't, actually, and you wince a little, because he's staring resolutely down at the ground. Part of you wonders if it's you, if he doesn't like strangers--but you observe that he's leaning away from Greta, who has come up to stand ramrod-straight behind you, same cold expression on her face like she’s daring Helge to make a mistake. 

“Do you have a favorite one?” You ask, pointing to the little die-cast trains and automobiles on the carpet next to him. Slowly, his hand moves towards a small green panzer--

“There’s no need to coddle him," Greta admonishes, and Helge pulls his arm back. You feel the urge to shield him behind you. _ He's just a child _, you want to tell her. But you don't, and after a while when Helge says nothing, you stand and turn back to face her. 

“If I’m to be employed in your household as a maid, what tasks would I be handling?” 

“Hm. You’ll do the cooking and cleaning. Fixing up our house for guests, which we’ll be getting more of soon. And taking care of the boy each day. He has a math tutor already, but you’ll be teaching him other subjects. If,” she starts, when you open your mouth to protest, “you perform adequately, by the end of the season I may consider negotiating your pay. But we will not speak of it until then.” She crosses her arms. "So?" 

You look back at Helge. He’s beginning to play with the toy panzer, dragging it across the rug so that the fibers stick up in little tracks. "I'll do it," you hear yourself say. 

"Good." Greta turns and begins walking down the hallway; you hurry behind her. "You will address me by ‘Ms. Doppler’, ‘Madam Doppler’, or ‘Madam’ only. You'll be living here, of course. We do not have servant’s quarters, so there's a spare room across the hall from Helge's. I expect you to bring your belongings here by tomorrow. And, as you’ll learn soon, your tasks are to be done to the utmost level of excellence, so we'll get started with your training right away. And…" your name sounds slow and harsh on her tongue, "You do go to church on Sundays, don't you?" 

You blink, mind still trying to process it all. “I just moved here, and I haven't gotten the chance to take a look--"

"Don't you?"

Your gaze lowers to the floor, hands forming to fists in your skirt pockets. "Yes, Madam." 

"Good." As she walks away, she continues, "I hear there's a new priest coming soon. You ought to acquaint yourself with him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok sorry I KNOW THIS CHAP WAS A LONG TIME COMING things have just been crazy and i'm glad i could finally deliver :) just watch season 3 basically retcon any of the stuff ive written here

Helge stays quiet even when it’s just the two of you. You get the sense that he’s not used to, well, _ positive _ human interaction, given what you already know about your employer. But over the past two weeks, he’s started to warm up to you a little, even beginning to speak to you unprompted in that dry, small voice of his. 

He reminds you of Richard. 

In the kitchen, over a cup of tea, you mull over possible activities as Helge crunches on his toast. Today is a rare “free day”, as dictated by Ms. Doppler, since you and Helge had gone over grammar and some basic science in the days before. It’s still a noticeable shift adjusting to this new household, especially one so strangely cold and stilted. When you went to get your home care license at the community center, you took the long way there, passing by a large empty lot. Though construction’s apparently only supposed to start in early November, more than four months away, Mr. Doppler is still working long hours. You had first met him the other evening, in passing, as he stopped by for dinner and returned to work through the night. 

Your foot is starting to go numb against the chair leg, and you sigh and take another sip of tea. “Helge? Do you want to go somewhere today?”

He takes a bite of toast, chewing, and then nods. You open the jar of preserves and slide it over to him. You’d finished your own breakfast at 7 in the morning, before you started your daily duties. 

“Well, where do you want to go? There’s a lot I haven’t explored yet. Let’s see, we could visit the police station, or the town center, or maybe even the lake,” you tick off on your fingers. 

His eyes light up, and he places the toast down, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Can… I mean, may we go to the forest?” 

“I don’t see why not,” you smile. “C’mon. We’ll get dressed and head out. It should be pretty sunny today. But,” you add, when he pushes his plate away, “Finish up breakfast first.” 

He does, probably too quickly, but it’s worth it, you suppose--you’d never seen him so excited. 

The two of you pass by the reading room on the way towards the foyer, where Ms. Doppler is sitting at the roller desk busy writing a letter. She looks up at the two of you--you, carrying a knapsack with water and a map, and Helge, bundled up just a little warmer in case there’s any summer chill. You wait for her to hand out her verdict. 

“Hm. Don’t let him go creeping around to places where he’s not supposed to be. And don’t be out too late.” 

You nod. “Yes, Madam.” 

You open the door for him, shielding your eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight. It’s cool outside. The air is clean and you take his hand in yours as the two of you walk down the steps. 

“Go get your bicycle, Helge. I’ll be there in a second.” 

Helge dashes off towards the storage unit. You adjust your linen scarf, knotting it loosely around your throat. You’re lucky at least that Ms. Doppler doesn’t force you into some kind of uniform, like the maid, Amelie, to whom the spotless interior of the mansion could be attributed. Helge wheels his bicycle out from the shed as you head after him. You kick the stand back from yours and bring yours out behind his. 

“Y’know, I can’t promise your mother that we won’t go,” you use air quotes, “creeping around. I should tell you, I was a master at creeping around myself.” 

Helge looked oddly at you. “Really? 

“Oh, of course, that was years ago. I’m not a scruffy little kid like you anymore,” you tease. “I spent my summers exploring the forest outside my town. There were mountains and ponds there, and deer trails. My parents were a little more… lenient than your mother. They’d only call me back if there were bears and wolves in the area.” 

“I’ve never seen a wolf before.” 

You laugh. “I should hope not, Helge. They’re really dangerous. We’ll stay careful today, okay? I don’t want you to get into any trouble.” 

* * *

Helge follows behind you on his bike, still too big for him. He told you how he’d only learned how to ride a bike a few weeks ago, so you keep an eye on him, occasionally turning around to check that he’s still close by as the two of you head towards the forest. 

The wind is blowing through your hair, strands of it pulling through your tight bun--one of the few hairstyles that Ms. Doppler would allow--and brushing against your cheeks. A giddy smile appears on your face. Being outside is a freedom you’d missed these past two weeks, summer rains and Ms. Doppler’s strict instruction keeping you from taking Helge anywhere. 

Dark green floods into your view as you take the turn onto the forest road, sloped dirt on either side of the pavement. Watching out for cars, you slow down to a stop and tread down onto one of the ditches, laying your bike on its side there. Farther ahead of you, Helge finally brakes to a stop. You wave him over. 

“Any points of interest here, or are we just exploring today?” 

He scrunches up his nose, seeming hesitant. “I guess we can just… wander.” 

“Okay.” You grab a mossy looking branch up off the forest floor and snap it half, handing one half to Helge. “Here. A walking stick. In case you trip.” 

“I’m not going to trip,” Helge mutters petulantly under his breath, but he takes the stick anyway. The two of you pass by the first trees lining the edge of the forest, and soon you are swallowed whole. 

Time passes slower in places like this. You and Helge are folded into a cathedral of living wood and intent. Led by Helge, who has taken over as the resident guide, you take a winding path between the trees, crossing between beds of saffron pine needles and dark olive moss. The tree trunks are bare all the way down, only their tops fringed with dark foliage. It lends a flashing sort of visual to your wandering, sharp vertical lines flickering in and out of view. 

Occasionally, birdsong flits through the air, sharp and unfamiliar to you. Not the birds you had grown up with, you surmise. It’s maybe about an hour into your journey that you realize neither of you have spoken since you’d entered the woods. Conversation has instead been superseded by the sounds of your treading footsteps, his lighter and yours heavier. 

Helge is Richard, in this moment. You see him by your side, in your peripheral, your younger brother. No longer feverish and stumbling, not clinging to the woolen blanket you’d knitted for him. If things could be different, you’d stay in the forest by your home forever. 

“We’re almost there.” 

“Where?” You look down at Richard and find him replaced with your charge, young Helge Doppler, his dark eyes staring up at you. 

“You’ll see. It’s a very special place.” Helge continues onward. There’s a clearing ahead, another hill blocking out anything further. 

And suddenly you’re there, and everything feels wrong. 

There is a cave, cut into the center of a hill, like an open sore into the ground and the darkness, like a wound bleeding out cold air. You can’t hear any more birdsong, any more wind, any more of the rustle and creak and life of the forest. Everything is dead here. 

Everything is dead here. 

“I’ve never actually seen it before.” His voice is hushed. You stare at the caves and feel a terrible sort of prickling sensation. 

“Helge… what is this?” 

“All the kids talk about it. The Winden Caves. They say it’s haunted. They dare people to go inside.” He ventures further, towards the yawning, dark mouth--a jagged tunnel leading into an impersonal darkness swallowing you whole. “Would you dare me to go inside?” 

“Helge, that’s not funny.” You can’t move forward. You don’t want to. “H-Helge? Helge! Come back here!” 

It seems to break whatever sort of fugue that has come over him. “But I want to go into the cave!” He stops and turns to look at you pleadingly, mouth downturned. 

“Helge, we’re leaving, now.” You grab onto his small hand and pull him towards you. 

Dirt scuffs up in little clouds as he scrambles over, protesting. “We didn’t even get to--” 

You cut him off firmly. “We need to go.” There’s a crestfallen look on his face, but you ignore it and tug on his hand again. “I’m sorry, Helge. I just need you to be safe. We don’t know who’s out here, this time of d--” 

You bump into someone and inhale sharply, whirling around. You don’t know when he had appeared behind the two of you, footsteps masked by the loud silence of the caves. 

_ There is nothing wrong _, you tell yourself. You back up, instinctively putting yourself between him and Helge. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s no need to apologize, dear. I must have frightened you.” 

His voice is soft and low, and though he sounds warm you find yourself hiding a shiver at the strange brightness in his blue eyes. You swallow, finding your mouth suddenly dry. Something about him seems familiar. 

You remember Greta’s words from your first day. “Y-you must be the new priest.” 

“Yes. My name is Noah.”

He shakes your hand. His hand is warm, engulfing yours, fingertips curling gently around your palm. He smiles. You let go all too fast and cross your hands behind you. Inadvertently, you hand brushes against a head of soft hair, and a quick exhale escapes you. 

“I, uh, this is Helge. Helge, say hello to the Father.” 

Helge ducks his head out from behind your woolen skirt. “Hallo,” he says, dully nervous. 

“Hello, Helge.” Noah smiles down at the boy. Then, to you, “What are you two doing here by the caves?” 

“Helge led me here. It’s, um, this forest is very beautiful. But the two of us were about to leave.” Your words fumble, and you take another small step back. “We need to return soon, anyways, else Helge’s mother will worry.” 

Something about the way he moves--his posture, perhaps, or the way the shadow from the brim of his hat slants across his eyeline--it seems all so very routine, predictable, an action you had seen a hundred times. 

He takes a step closer. “Mmm. It can be dangerous here. The caves are not always a good place to be for little ones.” 

His gaze moves up past you, towards the wound in the ground, before he looks back at you, eyes searching your face. His scrutiny invites self-consciousness, but it’s different from the unease you feel when Ms. Doppler looks down her nose at you, at an untidy bun or a rough homespun scarf. 

He looks like he wants something. 

“Is everything alright?” He tilts his head to the side. 

_ There is nothing wrong. _

A sudden nervous laugh escapes you. “I… I’m sorry. Do I know you?” 

He pauses. “No. I don’t think so.” 

“Sorry, I…” you try to amend, “You must have reminded me of someone.” Helge tugs at the hem of your dress, then, and you glance back at him. 

“But of course. In others, all we ever do is look for the faces of those we once knew.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you nod in lieu of a reply. He smiles and tips his hat. “Unfortunately, I have some other matters to attend to. Good afternoon to the two of you. I hope I will see you tomorrow.” 

That stops you in your tracks. “Tomorrow?” 

“Sunday.” There’s a lilt of amusement in his deep voice. 

Your cheeks redden. “Oh. Yes, of course. S-sorry.” You swear that he’s smirking at you, but then he nods politely and continues walking away. A moment later he recedes into the distance, disappearing behind visions of tall trees. You exhale, but your lungs feel tighter than usual. It must be the cold air. 

Another tug on the hem of your dress, as Helge says your name. “Are we heading back?” 

“...Yes, Helge. Come on.” You take his little hand in yours and lead the way back, not looking behind at the cave and the yawning mouth and all the darkness inside. 

As the two of you leave the fringes of the forest and head towards your bikes, you start to feel a little steadier. Helge is tired out by now, so you decide to take the road back to town. The whole way back both you and Helge are silent. Your thoughts keep turning over and over, fixated on the man you met in the forest. Like words on the tip of your tongue, your memories feel tight and blurred all at once. You cannot grasp where you had seen him before, spoke to him, existed in the same space--and at the same time, perhaps he’s just one of those strangers that looks familiar. You realize you never told him your name, and that thought makes an already awkward situation even more uncomfortable. 

The two of you sit down on a bench near the center of the town. You look to the side, and can just barely see the tops of the trees, far away. 

“Sorry.” Helge’s voice startles you from your thoughts. 

“Oh, no, Helge, it’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “I’m here to keep you safe, okay? Please listen to me next time. Some people and some places can be dangerous, even if you think it’s safe. It’s better to have… reasonable doubt.” 

“Do you not trust him? He’s the priest.” 

“Of course I trust him, and you should, too. It’s just…” _ There is nothing wrong. _ You hesitate, and change the subject back. “I don’t think the caves are a good place to visit, Helge.” 

He looks down at his feet. “Okay.” 

“C’mon. Let’s go home, alright? You must be hungry.” 

Helge nods and hops off the bench, walking towards your bikes. You watch him leave. Helge ought to trust Noah, as a new and important figure in the community. As the Father, during confessionals and Mass. But you can’t shake the feeling that something is strange about him. 

That night you dream of Noah. He’s standing there, in the distance, at the mouth of the cave, turned away from you. Positions reversed. You wonder what he’s been doing inside--if he’s hiding something precious, something strange. You want to know. It is cold, but you feel achingly warm inside, aching to go closer to him, to share in his light, to tell him--

_ everything, my dear-- _

You wake up before he turns to face you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think!


End file.
